Chapter Text
Waking up that morning was harder than usual for some reason. In reality, it was just another day, another meeting with stakeholders and sponsors. Another morning of ruckus and pacing and gathering documents with numbers that made your head spin. Your supervisor had stepped out for a minute to grab a cup of coffee before the next round of people came in to make sure that their money was going exactly where they wanted, while you paced around the meeting room, laying out folders and spreadsheets at each appropriate seat, setting up the computer and projector as the previous evening still took its space in your head. With ten people coming in for this meeting, fifteen in the previous one, and another three major meetings before the end of the day, you let your body take over, the autopilot moving you through the motions as the clock ticked down the few minutes before your supervisor came back in.
A blue folder here, an iPad there, a coaster for a coffee elsewhere. Your brain instead focused on trying to distract from the raging headache that hadn’t left you after what had seemed like an innocent few drinks with friends the night before. Your late-twenties certainly weren’t what they used to be. Combined with the main subject of that day’s meetings, it really was just easier to let the monotony of the morning all blend together. Discussing aid and donations for something as difficult as a major armed conflict really never got all that much easier. Plus this was personal. While the first couple of years of working for a non-profit were incredibly rewarding despite what people saw as difficult subjects being breached every day, none of the previous situations your company tackled ever hit quite this close. But war, in what used to be your second home, was not something you ever expected to have to discuss on a daily basis with people who are only focused on whether or not it was going to affect their investments in spheres such as the oil industry. Now, the thought that you might not see the parts of the country where your family grew up in the same light ever again cast a dark shadow over the regular machinations of the rest of your life. There really was no escaping it.
The bar the previous night played CNN over the noise of people going out for Wednesday evening drinks. It was barely audible, but every few minutes the words “tanks” or “casualties” broke through the buzz of people around you. While at work, Google’s suggested searches would remind you of the months you spent making sure your distant family had the contacts they needed to flee their home. And at home, the photos of you and your younger brother in your teenage years contained places and buildings and homes that you had no certain way of knowing were still standing. The weight that was placed on your shoulders a little less than two years ago had followed you quietly, settling deeper into your skin in those moments when distractions like work and friends just weren’t enough. And so here was another reminder. Another hour-long meeting with people who couldn’t give two shits about the actual good you and the people you worked with were trying to do but were rather more focused on using your resources as a way to ensure good PR for themselves and to gain insight into how their own profit margins might change in the coming weeks. As you placed the last binder on the meeting table, a sigh left your lips as you took the seat just to the right of the head of the table.
A rap of knuckles on the door had you lifting your head to meet the eyes of your supervisor. She gave you a small smile as she walked in.
“How many drinks did you have last night?”
You didn’t have the chance to chat before the previous meeting, so catching up was now or never with her.
“I guess it was one too many, Beth,” You chuckled beneath your breath in response as she smiled once more.
“Look at you, becoming an old lady, aren’t you?”
“Okay, let’s not go just that far, I’ve still got some fun in me,” You responded snidely, your eyebrows narrowing at Beth. She just shook her head at you, sitting down at the head of the table beside you.
“Well, just give it another few years and you’ll be more than ready to admit your old age, my dear. But seriously, if you aren’t feeling well at the moment, you can sit this meeting out.”
“How could I? You need me and my impeccable slide-switching skills for these old men. Besides, my headache is almost gone, I’ll just sit quietly for this one.”
“Only if you’re sure. Also, this meeting isn’t going to just be old men,” Beth raised her brows at you, a sly smirk gracing her features. You raised your brows in curious response, beckoning her to continue the thought. “I thought I mentioned this, but this meeting is some of Bernie Sanders’ local outreach chapter leaders coming in to see if any of their resources can be applied to help us out, or the other way around. Non-profit to non-profit. Or, well, non-profit to socialist organization.”
“Seriously? Then I’m definitely not leaving. Some of these people could actually properly help us out without ulterior motives.”
“Exactly. We’ve been trying to set this up for months and might finally get something worthwhile out of a partnership.”
You nodded in response, silence hanging between the two of you as you mulled the discovery over.
“Any chance Bernie himself might be here?” A hopeful note entered your voice but drifted away as Beth started shaking her head.
“No, last I spoke with the local DSA head, he’s going to be in D.C. indefinitely.”
You hummed quietly in disappointment. As Beth reached over to pat your arm, another knock on the door had you both looking up.
“Sorry to disturb, Ms. Ranoft, but your eleven a.m. is here,” the petite woman from reception, Tess, alerted you both.
“Thank you, Tess, you can send them up,” Beth stood from her seat, straightening her ever-perfectly ironed pencil skirt. As she made her way to the door to greet those coming up, you set to work, making sure the correct presentations were in order, and finding all the necessary documents in your own binder to help Beth field the likely difficult questions this particular group would throw at her.
As the surprisingly young group said their goodbyes and shook hands with you and Beth, a little bit of that ever-present weight seemed to give you some reprieve. The hour-long discussion had gone more smoothly than you could’ve hoped for, and a few mutual agreements were sorted out that provided a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. The leader of the Los Angeles chapter in particular was actively enthusiastic. James Claryn was newly elected to the leadership committee in Los Angeles, and as a new leader, he had the enthusiasm of one. Luckily, his solutions weren’t to just throw money at every problem. And it seemed he had made a point to be the last one to leave the room.
“Ladies, thank you so much for this, truly,” James shook hands with both of his hands, his grasp gentle yet firm.
“It’s our pleasure. We’re so glad this finally worked out,” You replied. He then turned to shake hands with Beth.
“Also, I wanted to offer you both my personal card. While the DSA as a whole I’m sure is going to benefit from us working together, I would love to make this a close connection for the LA chapter. The work Lex Liveli has done for our community even while your efforts have been focused on war relief has been so, so important, and I’d be a rather stupid man if I just walked away right now,” James pulled two business cards from his wallet, handing one to each of you. “If either of you ever needs anything, or if Lex needs anything, give me a call.”
“James, thank you, and please do the same. We’re thrilled to keep working with the DSA,” Beth smiled at James, starting to slowly steer him towards the door. Before she could usher him out, he turned around to face the both of you once more.
“Oh and before I forget! The LA chapter is having a fairly large get-together to fundraise for local housing efforts, and I’d love to see you both there. It’ll be this Sunday at our headquarters in West Hollywood. It’ll be a fun event, but I’m sure there will be more than a few potential networking options for you as well. You really never know who might turn up,” James winked, a smirk settling on his face.
“We’ll definitely get back to you on that one,” Beth chuckled to herself, gently turning him around again towards the door. “Why don’t you leave all the info with Tess, and we’ll get back to you by tomorrow afternoon.”
James nodded in response, still chattering away as Beth led him from the meeting room and back towards the lobby of your small office space. In the meantime, you started clearing the room. The rest of the day followed the same pattern, you and Beth would discuss a game plan prior to a meeting, you’d spend an hour or so pandering to a bunch of men in suits, and then Beth and Tess would quietly usher them from the building as at least half of them would try to offer their cards in half-assed attempts to appear helpful to the cause. As the day came to a close, Beth made an offer to get dinner, but you refused, wanting the evening to yourself to just unwind and finally get rid of the headache that had continued pestering you through the day.
And that’s precisely what you did. Walking through the door of your small apartment in West Hollywood, you kicked off your shoes as you made little kissing noises to figure out where your cat had gone. Rhubarb was a little void of a cat who gave you as much grief as she solved, and she finally emerged from the kitchen, winding herself around your legs as you hung up your jacket.
“Hi, Rhu,” You leaned over to pet her, giving her a quick scratch under the chin as she almost seemed to smile at you. The joy didn’t last long though, as she promptly trotted off back into the kitchen with only one thing on her mind. A meow traveled back to you, summoning you to follow her.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” You huffed in amusement, watching her tail disappear around the corner. Feeding her was always first priority, and then as she munched away you could focus on dealing with your own dinner.
Right as you put down Rhu’s bowl into her stand beside the kitchen counters, your phone began to ring. Your mother’s caller ID illuminated the screen as you pulled your phone from your pocket, swiping to answer and immediately turned on speaker.
“ Привіт, ma,” Your weekly catch-up with your mother had entirely slipped your mind.
“Hi, honey,” She replied in Ukrainian. “How are you, how’d your meetings go today?”
“Eh, they went okay,” You slowed a bit as your tired mind fully got a chance to code-switch into your native language. “Did have an interesting chat with the leader of the LA DSA today.”
“What’s that?”
“Democratic Socialists of America, they’re the organization that Bernie Sanders works with a lot.”
“Ah, okay. So why was it an interesting chat?” Her voice was piqued in curiosity.
“The new member of the leadership committee gave me and Beth his card, apparently there’s a charity networking event happening Sunday and he invited both of us.”
“You should go! I forget the last time you made some new friends. Maybe you’ll even meet someone more interesting,” Your mom chuckled to herself, and you could almost see the sly grin on her face.
“Ma. Stop calling me a loser.”
“No, dear, that’s not what I meant-”
“Ma. I’ll socialize, don’t worry,” At this point, you just wanted to change subjects.
“Okay, dear. Good. But what else did you get up to this week?” She seemed to get the hint. The rest of the conversation was spent discussing your night out with friends, how Beth had kept mothering you, and funny things that happened at work. Your mother filled you in on the latest family news, both in Ukraine and back home in Boston for you. As you spoke, you set your phone on speaker and started milling about the kitchen to finally make yourself some dinner.
A dirty pan, rapid-fire war update, and a glass of wine later you were sitting finally on your couch, Rhubarb curled up beside you as you hung up the phone with your mom and pulled up Netflix to finally turn your brain off. As a sitcom played in the background, you ate your pasta, and let the noise distract you from the busy thoughts milling around your head.
However, despite your desire to have a properly quiet evening, your phone buzzed once again. This time, a text. One of your closest colleagues and friends had gotten the info about the party from Beth, and you knew exactly what her getting that information would result in. Pestering you to go.
Rachel: So… are you going on sunday?
You: Idk tbh, I really need a night off
Rachel: Ponchik, please, I beg of you, you keep going out without me. Let’s make it a girls' night!
You rolled your eyes as your mother’s nickname for you which had caught on with Rachel the previous year popped up on the screen. The Ukrainian word for “cream puff” was endearing, but did you have you occasionally ready to fight her on sight.
You: Okay okay I’ll think about it. No promises though
Rachel: You better… I’ll check in tmrw at work, now get some rest you crazy person
You: I was trying to do so when you texted me, let me watch my stupid sitcom in peace
Rachel: wow no appreciation I see - I’ll see you tmrw !
After texting Rachel goodnight, you cleaned up the kitchen and tidied the rest of the remaining mess around the apartment. Some quiet time to yourself with the TV in the background seemed to help you relax, and after a shower, you climbed into bed, Rhubarb immediately mewing to be let in under the covers.
The rest of the week flew by in a monotonous blur, Friday was full of meetings once again, Saturday full of sorting out the piled-up household chores and errands. As Sunday rolled around, and Rachel’s texts floated through your mind, it was actually Beth’s urging that finally convinced you to go. She mentioned something about incredibly influential people planning on making an appearance, people that could contribute if not massive amounts of money, then massive amounts of exposure to Lex Liveli and its mission. So a call or two later, and Rachel was at your front door with two bottles of wine and a bag full of clothes in tow.
“Hi, Rach,” You pulled her into a hug, the wine bottles clinking behind you as she returned the hug.
“Hi! Are we starting with the wine or are we starting with the fits?” She held out both options for you, an incredibly mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Who do you think I am? Obviously, wine,” You pulled the bottles from her hands as she let out a laugh, jumping in place as she followed you into the kitchen. As you pulled out the wine glasses, she tossed her bag to the couch, settling against the island to take her glass after you poured.
“I barely saw you this week,” She mumbled, taking a sip as she carefully watched you from behind her glass as you poured your own.
“Yeah, I know, sorry. It’s been a bit of a mess… I’ve been a bit of a mess,” You averted your eyes, turning around to set the bottle to the side.
“Is everything okay back home?”
“With my parents? Yeah, everything’s fine. If you mean Ukraine, then I don’t know. Not much has changed,” You swirled the liquid in your glass before taking a sip, averting your eyes from Rachel’s sympathetic look.
“I’m glad your parents are good,” She dodged the second half of your reply. “Your mom still giving you grief about you being single?” She sidled up beside you, hip-bumping you to pull a giggle from your lips.
“Yeah, nothing new,” You laughed. “She got on my ass about going tonight because she thinks I might meet someone. Who the fuck can I meet at a damn DSA event?” You turned to her, leaning against the counter. “Like actually, this is just going to be a bunch of men in suits circle-jerking for three hours while getting drunk.”
Rachel nearly spat out her wine.
“What?! You know I’m right.”
“Yes you are, but you didn’t have to say it like that,” She giggled, clinking her glass against yours. “But besides that, let's just get pissed and look nice for a night. If it's boring as shit and Beth doesn’t actually need you working, we can come back and watch a stupid movie and get high. Sounds like a plan?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely. Cheers to that,” You clinked with her once more, dragging her to the couch to go through the likely mountain of clothes she brought to try on for the night.
An hour and a half later, the two of you stepped out carefully from the Uber in front of the DSA West Hollywood HQ. Having both smoothed your dresses, following the cocktail dress code forwarded from Tess, you wrapped your arm through Rachel’s and walked towards the building. Music floated from the windows and open doors, the melodies of Tom Misch and Anderson Paak. reaching your ears.
“At least they got someone decent to choose the playlist,” You nudged Rachel, chuckling.
“Definitely some random intern, that poor kid, must be absolutely terrified.”
“Well, he’s got my approval,” The two of you continued laughing to yourselves as you walked in, a member of security checking your names off a list. With the lights already slightly dimmed and people mulling about talking, you two had arrived at the perfect time to simply blend in with the crowd.
The party was set on the bottom floor of the DSA HQ, an expansive set of rooms, with the main one hosting a small stage and a few makeshift bars. A couple of smaller rooms with brighter lighting broke off to each side of the main space, set for people to sit and indulge in some of the heartier food catering had brought. Waiters milled about with trays carrying small appetizers, a careful selection of foods for various dietary needs listed on each tray. Three or four bartenders tended to the people leaning against their counters, mixing drinks and quietly gossiping about the people in front of them. Despite the charity setting of the event, however, the majority of the people in the room seemed to be anywhere from twenty to forty years old, with only a few clear higher-ups exceeding that age bracket. If there was one thing the DSA was good at, it was getting young potential leaders to actually show up to these networking events. A screen beside the stage showed a ticking counter of money as donations flowed in for the local workers’ union, the number nearing half a million dollars. You took a mental note of the number, curious to later check what it would look like when you and Rachel would ultimately leave.
“Alright, gameplan,” You faced Rachel upon reaching a standing table, setting your purse on it. “I’m going to go find Beth, figure out if she needs me to be actually on the clock and for how long, and once I get the all clear, we get drunk, look for some eye candy, and if there’s no luck, we go home. That work?”
“Sounds perfect. I can do some scoping while you talk to Beth?”
“No, don’t worry about it. Maybe a couple of drinks, though?”
“G&T? Long Island? Martini?” She raised an eyebrow before her next word. “Tequila?”
“Rachel! Oh my god, not yet!” You nudged her shoulder as she cackled. “G&T is good for now, then we can get wasted to our hearts’ desires, alright?”
“Yes, yes, tequila in thirty minutes is what I heard!”
You shook your head as she wandered towards the bar, turning around to go find Beth. Now it was time for the fun task of sorting through the crowd to find the petite woman, your only good chance of finding her looking out for her full head of salt-and-pepper hair. You shuffled around small congregating groups, overhearing talks of financial aid, political campaigns, and familial catch-ups between longer-standing members of the DSA. You may have heard a few things that maybe were not for your ears as you wandered, seeing a few familiar faces from the news and media. It was always surprising to hear just how much sensitive information people were willing to divulge as soon as they were surrounded by a seemingly innocuous crowd. You pocketed the quiet bits of information you did hear for a later date, grateful that you and Rachel had not opened the second bottle of wine before leaving.
It didn’t take all too long to find Beth, though, her graceful laughter reaching you from the far corner of the main room. You spotted her smiling at James, the two of them standing and speaking with a young man, a face you recognized from the meeting Thursday morning. She seemed to be right in her element, a friendly hand on James’ forearm as she enthusiastically continued their conversation. You hoped she had made noticeable progress on rekindling the connection between your two organizations and judging by James’ blissful look, her efforts were being well rewarded. The young man beside them smiled as well in response to Beth’s words, the group giving off a warm and inviting aura. You quietly joined them, placing a hand on Beth’s arm as you joined the three of them.
“Hi, Beth, good to see you,” You greeted her as she turned to you. Immediately she pulled you into a gentle hug to say hello as well.
“You’ve met James and Bryce, haven’t you?” She turned to ensure you were all acquainted.
“Of course, nice to see you again,” You shook hands with both men, the two of them smiling in response to you.
“You look wonderful, I’m so glad you could make it,” James seemed genuinely happy to see you. “Feel free to talk with whomever you see here, we’re all here to get to know each other and do some good today. There’ll be a short speech from the local union leader later in the evening, but besides that, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. I’m sure there’ll be a few people here until late.”
“Then I’ll be sure to stick around for a little while. Gentlemen, if you’d excuse me though, I need to steal Beth away just for a moment,” You began stepping away. Beth excused herself as well, and the two of you stepped to the side to speak. “I just wanted to check in with you. Do you want me on the clock tonight?”
“No, no absolutely not! Have some fun, please. I know Rachel’s also here, I hope she makes you relax a little bit. Just be careful with that dress, though, some of the drinks here have food coloring when they don’t need to,” Beth glanced over your pale blush cocktail dress, patting your arm as she sent you off. “Have fun, dear. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
“Thank you, Beth. See you tomorrow!” You waved subtly as she walked away, now free to properly have some fun with your friend. A mental high-five to yourself, and you turned to find Rachel. Of course, she was sitting at the bar, attempting to flirt with the bartender who just seemed too tired to be there.
“Rachel, leave the poor man alone,” You hopped onto the bar stool beside her, pulling her attention away from the actually rather handsome man mixing a drink.
“What? I was just lonely without you here,” She batted her eyes, settling into her stool to face you.
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” You shook your head before turning to the bartender. “Can I have a gin & tonic, please? I doubt this fool ordered for me.”
Your words were met with a smack on your arm and a shocked gasp from Rachel.
“Am I wrong?” You spun to look at her. She folded immediately, looking down at her lap and her immaculately painted nails. “Clearly not. So please, barman, a gin & tonic for me, and one for her if she also forgot to order.”
“Thank you…”
“Mm-hmm, exactly. But I have good news,” You smiled at Rachel, and she immediately got the message.
“Oh, you’re off the clock! Oh thank god, let’s have some fun!”
Right on cue, two gin and tonics were placed in front of you. As Beth had mentioned, even the gin and tonic was tinted green. You chuckled to yourself, making sure to not jostle the liquid too much as you pulled the drink towards you. You toasted, and upon sipping your drinks, sat back in satisfaction.
“So did you scope out anything interesting before I found you here?”
“No, not really, there’s a lot of people here but they all seem to be with their own partners or they don’t seem that interesting. You?”
“I definitely heard a few things I shouldn’t have, but that’s for another time.”
Rachel tilted her head at you, also shuffling that information away for later.
“Oh well, let’s just have our drinks and enjoy each other’s company. I haven’t spent time with you properly in ages.”
“Now that you mention it, it has been a long time. When was the last time, that end-of-quarter party in December?”
“Holy shit, yeah. That was two months ago, oh god,” You leaned over the bar, hiding in shame from her.
“See! You need to relax more.”
“I went out on Wednesday, though, I go out often enough,” You retorted.
“That was a birthday party, you were obligated. You don’t go out for yourself, is what I mean. What happened to the girl that taught me how to have fun?” Rachel persisted, laughing to herself as you groaned in response.
“She got tired, girly,” You just gave Rachel a pointed look, and she shook her head at you.
“Please, you’re only twenty-six. What kind of attitude is that? But besides that, I know you’ve been super overwhelmed. I beg of you, take some time off soon. We should finally go on that trip!” A spark reappeared in Rachel’s eyes. The two of you had been talking about taking a girls' trip to Europe for months now, her wanting to visit northern Italy while you were itching to get to see Poland again after visiting once with your family in high school. It was as close as your mom would let you get to Ukraine without absolutely losing her shit for a month.
“Okay, how’s this? Come over on Saturday, we’ll sit down, figure out when we can both take PTO, and actually plan this trip. Maybe sometime in May?”
“Sick, let’s do it.”
The two of you easily settled into a rhythm, catching up on work gossip as well as the absolutely chaotic tales Rachel would share from her personal friend groups. Spending time with her made the cloud of responsibilities that otherwise hung over you drift at least some distance away, and let you finally fully relax into the atmosphere surrounding the two of you.